Roquebrun looked around warily at the rest of the café’s patrons. ‘Officially, no. Unofficially, yes,’ he whispered, taking Dulac into his confidence.
‘I’m impressed.’
‘That cost the French government $20 million US, including the payments to the Colombian government. Your clients’ pockets better be deep.’
‘How deep?’
Roquebrun paused, stared at Dulac, and twisted the other end of his mustache. ‘We’re talking say, $22 million US here.’
‘Rather steep.’
‘Inflation, you know.’
‘I’ll need confirmation from my principal. Shall we say a couple of million down payment, and the rest when you deliver de Ségur to the French police?’
Roquebrun burst into the hard laughter of the humorless man. ‘You’ve got to be joking. In this kind of business, it’s 50 per cent down, or no deal. We’ve got a lot of up-front expenses: reconnaissance work, coordination and field equipment, payments to facilitators.’
‘$11 million is a lot of expenses.’
‘It’s my ass that will be fired at, Mr Dulac. Not yours. Take it or leave it.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Dulac got up to leave.
‘À bientôt,’ said the mercenary, giving Dulac a surprisingly soft, almost effeminate handshake. ‘Call me.’ He handed Dulac a small piece of folded paper.
Dulac walked away quickly and soon melted into the hectic flow of Parisian pedestrians.
Back at his apartment, Dulac phoned Legnano.
‘Timely that you called, Mr Dulac. We have just received payment instructions from de Ségur. Payment is due in three hours, but that is not your problem. You calling me means that you have found someone, Mr Dulac? That you accept?’
‘Yes.’ I must be insane, Dulac thought. ‘A certain Eric Roquebrun.’
‘And you have checked him out, so to speak?’
‘He’s been referred by an acquaintance. We don’t have time to—’
‘Of course. I understand.’
‘And what is his … fee?’
‘$22 million US. $11 million now and the rest upon delivery of the goods.’
‘What? That’s unacceptable. We must pay de Ségur and now this? And without any guarantees?’
‘Monsignor, believe me. These people don’t negotiate. Or give any guarantees.’
‘But what proof do we have that he can deliver?’
‘You mean other than his sordid reputation?’
‘I see.’ Legnano paused for a moment.
‘And how exactly will this Roquefort—’
‘Roquebrun, your Eminence.’
‘—Roquebrun eliminate the threat?’
‘The plan is he and his men will capture and abduct de Ségur and bring him to France. When de Ségur is in custody, the Vatican can negotiate with the French authorities for a lesser sentence in exchange for his keeping quiet. You’ll have the cards, this time, your Eminence.’
‘We, Mr Dulac, we are to negotiate?’
‘I suspect you have a little more clout with the French Minister of Justice than I do.’
‘That’s a high price for only part of the bargain. We want the threat eliminated, Mr Dulac, not postponed.’
‘Your Eminence, I may be suspended, but I’m still an officer of the law. That’s the best I can offer.’
There was a pause, and Dulac almost hoped Legnano would refuse. ‘I’ll get back to you, Mr Dulac.’
Chapter 31
The Vatican, 3 p.m., 17 June
‘His Holiness will see you now,’ said the assistant secretary to Cardinal Gonzales.
Gonzales entered the papal library and walked to the far end of the room.
‘My dear Gonzales, you are looking well. How are you?’ he said as he rose to greet the cardinal.
‘I’m getting acclimatized to the rarefied atmosphere of the inner Curia.’
‘I warned you: acceptance takes time. How did the transfer from Cardinal Brentano go?’
‘I, well, there are still many files that I’m not—’
‘It’s not going smoothly?’
‘I would have liked more help. He says he’s too busy with his new functions.’
‘I’ll have a word with him. And the other Curia members?’
‘Just courteous.’
‘Normal. They don’t know you. How was their reaction to my agenda?’
‘Not good. They’re talking about deposing you, on grounds of heresy and insanity,’ said Gonzales.
There was a moment of silence. ‘So rumor has it. I’m not entirely surprised. Who exactly?’
‘Sforza and Fouquet,’ said Gonzales.
‘From Fouquet, to be expected. Sforza is disappointing. I thought he would support at least some of the changes. What were the others’ reactions?’
‘Legnano was neutral. And Signorelli would let you proceed and have the ecumenical council overrule you. He thinks that you’ll have to bend to its wishes, or risk being deposed.’
‘Ah, Legnano. He’s smart. He’ll wait to see which way the wind blows before taking sides.’ He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. ‘So they want to depose me? What small minds surround us, Gonzales. But I have a surprise for them.’
‘A surprise?’
‘Monsignor, when one embarks on such a bold venture, one needs the help of destiny. But you see, sometimes even destiny needs a little push, a little nudge.’ He blinked a knowing eye towards the Colombian. ‘Let’s see what we can do to help it.’
Gonzales continued. ‘There’s another matter.’ ‘Yes?’
‘With the Curia’s approval, Legnano has given a mandate to inspector Dulac to have de Ségur captured and brought to justice. Legnano wants to eliminate the threat permanently.’
Fouquet, his brown hair disheveled, his complexion flushed with anger, swept into Legnano’s office. ‘I won’t send them. Not with what we know.’
‘You haven’t sent them yet? Monsignor, you must send out the writs of convocation as instructed. You have no choice,’ said Legnano.
‘But if we depose him….’
‘You can’t hold up the convocation waiting for the results of any removal procedure. Canon law is clear. If you refuse to send them, I must act in your place.’
‘I see,’ said Fouquet. ‘Then will you begin the procedure to depose?’
‘You know better than to ask that, Cardinal. I am still the Secretary of State. I am, until otherwise legally and properly advised, the executor of his wishes. I am bound.’
‘I interpret that as a negative.’
‘This discussion is closed, your Eminence,’ said Legnano. He was about to escort Fouquet to the door when the phone on his desk rang. He hesitated.
‘I’ll see my way out,’ said Fouquet.
‘Yes, your Holiness, I’ll come immediately,’ said Legnano. As he made his way to the papal library, Legnano felt the wheels of destiny starting to move and gather speed. The incline was getting steeper and the momentum, if not checked, would be soon unstoppable. The opposing camps were starting to form. The division he had predicted was already there, could already be felt. The conservatives and the progressives were drawing clear battle lines, something they had, in recent times, never been forced to do. An ominous, open conflict within the Church seemed inevitable. If anyone in the Vatican understood the Church, with all of its faults and human frailties, it was he. His beloved Church was under attack, and if necessary, he would defend it to the death. Upon becoming a cardinal, a Prince of the Church, he had vowed to do so.
‘You wish to see me, your Holiness?’ said the cardinal, as he entered the papal library and walked towards the prelate, sitting at his desk. Legnano stared for a moment at Perugino’s painting of the Resurrection of Christ looming – perhaps prophetically – overhead.
‘Yes, Legnano. Please be seated.’
Legnano pulled up one of the spindly-legged uncomfortable chairs.
‘I’ve heard some rumblings about a movement
to depose me. You are aware of this, Cardinal?’
‘Your Holiness, I… Yes, I am aware that….’ Legnano fidgeted nervously with his rosary.
‘There is no need to be evasive Legnano. I know Sforza’s and Fouquet’s position.’
I’m sure you do. Gonzales must have run into your office right after the meeting, thought Legnano. ‘Your Holiness, I must say I did find the agenda, how should I say—’
‘Heretical?’
‘No, I wouldn’t go that far. But it is quite drastic. Some would even say, revolutionary.’
‘Drastic times require drastic measures, Legnano. These changes are long overdue.’
For a man under personal attack, with the threat of deposition hanging over his head, the Pope seemed remarkably calm, thought Legnano.
‘Actually, I’ve called you on another issue. Apparently, you’ve given a mandate to someone concerning the diary?’
Legnano fumbled for words, ‘Ah, you see your Holiness, I—’
‘Shouldn’t I have been consulted first on this delicate matter?’
Legnano felt his face reddening. ‘We, we didn’t want to implicate you.’
‘I see. And what exactly is the nature of this mandate, Eminence?’
‘I’m about to give the mandate to Inspector Dulac, your Holiness. A mandate to remove de Ségur. Unless we eliminate the threat, he will continue to blackmail us forever. We have no other choice.’
‘So our role in this is precisely what?’
‘We are providing additional financial support to Interpol’s agent, Dulac.’ Not really a lie, Legnano told himself, just looking at the truth from a slightly different perspective. ‘He in turn will organize de Ségur’s capture. Since Interpol has a warrant for his arrest, we can always argue that it’s Interpol’s exclusive responsibility.’
‘Sounds extremely risky, Cardinal. What if this goes wrong and someone traces the mandate back to you?’
‘Impossible, your Holiness. We’ve taken every precaution against that possibility.’
‘Tread very carefully with this, Legnano.’
Chapter 32
Paris, late afternoon, 17 June
Dulac awaited the fateful phone call from the Vatican as he sat drinking the last of his Glenlivet, listening to Maurizio Pollini’s rendition of Chopin’s Prelude No. 14 in E flat minor. The phone rang.
‘We accept, Mr Dulac,’ said Legnano, his voice barely audible over the loud, dizzying arpeggios.
‘Just a second, I’ll lower the volume. There, that’s better. So you’re going ahead?’
‘We have no choice.’
‘So I can call Roque—?’
‘No details, Mr Dulac. Just get the job done. Oh, and by the way, you will receive one million dollars for your troubles, Mr Dulac, upon delivery of the goods. It will be credited to a trust account here at the Vatican bank. If you agree, of course.’
Dulac sat in stunned disbelief. ‘Mr Dulac?’
‘Yes?’
‘Is that acceptable?’
Dulac hesitated, his mind reeling at the offer, yet fighting within the innermost depths of his professional conscience to hold onto the remnants of his fundamental values. After a moment, he said, ‘Your Eminence, your offer is most generous, but I cannot accept it. I’m still an Interpol agent, an officer of the law. By taking the money I’d be putting a definite end to my career.’
‘I see,’ said the cardinal, resignation in his voice.
‘I am not prepared to do that.’
‘I understand, Mr Dulac. Most commendable. Does that mean you refuse the mandate?’
‘Monsignor, I still want to see de Ségur behind bars.’
‘Good.’
The line went dead.
Dulac flipped his phone shut and turned off the CD player. I must be absolutely insane. I’ve just committed the crime of conspiracy to kidnap, even if this doesn’t get off the ground. With a bloody cardinal no less. And to top it off, I’ve just refused more money than I will ever see for the rest of my life!
Dulac went to the bar, poured himself another scotch then returned to the sofa and sat down. After a long swig, he deposited the glass on the small table beside the sofa. On the opposite wall, his mother, her reproachful stern stare frozen in a mix of pastel and charcoal, stared back at him as if to admonish him. Well, Mother, now what should I do? Suddenly a gust of wind swooshed through the open window and sent the paper score off the Steinway’s music support fluttering to the floor. He rose, put the Polonaise piece back onto the support, went to the window and closed it. Below in the courtyard, children were scurrying about, gathering their toys before the impending storm. Dulac went back to the sofa, sat down and took another gulp. He felt in every bone of his body the fatefulness of his next decision.
Then the images of de Ségur’s victims flew briefly before his eyes: Romer, the rosy-complexioned, taciturn Swiss Guard; Aguar.
He put down his glass on the table, picked up the phone and dialed Roquebrun’s number. ‘Dulac. My principal agrees. When can we discuss planning?’
‘I’ll meet you at 7 p.m. in the lobby of the Hotel Durocher. I’ll give you the deposit instructions.’
Dulac hung up, put a hand to his chest and felt palpitations through his shirt.
An hour later, the Glenlivet having mellowed his mood, or numbed his brain, he didn’t care to know which, Dulac hailed a cab and rode through the evening smog to the hotel.
‘I reserved a suite, so we can spread out,’ said Roquebrun in the lobby, as he led Dulac towards the elevators.
‘Spread out?’
‘I knew your client would accept. I have a map of the area, plus a preliminary report on de Ségur’s habits, ins and outs, location of guards, etc.’
‘You don’t waste time.’
They took the elevator and Dulac felt his palpitations start again. This seemed wrong, definitely wrong. His instincts were telling him to turn and run. He didn’t listen to them and followed the mercenary down the corridor into the room. Roquebrun took off his worn, brown leather jacket and threw it onto the sofa. He put on his glasses, opened an attaché case and unfolded a map on the table.
‘It’s a 1:32,0000 topographical map of the Mayan Mountain Range in Belize. De Ségur is probably near here,’ Roquebrun said, pointing to a mountain. ‘It corresponds to the satellite latitude-longitude you gave me. I know that area. Mount Margaret is the most remote, difficult part of the jungle to access.’ He pointed to a section of the map. ‘If you look closely, there is a small road there. It’s the only way in.’
‘What’s your plan?’ said Dulac, feeling inextricably drawn in.
‘We know that they allow a fuel truck in past the guard house, for the bimonthly delivery of diesel fuel. They’re due for a delivery in two days.’
‘I think I know where you’re going with this.’
‘We’ll have to hijack the truck. Once we secure the target, we’ll pick him up with a rented chopper. You’ll be there. You’ll be in the helicopter that picks us up.
‘Me, pick you up? In a helicopter? No way. I’ve had just about enough of helicopters, thank you very much.’
‘That’s the deal. You’re my safety net. I don’t want to be shot at by the Belizean army once we secure de Ségur and we’re flying him out of Belize.’
‘So you’re asking me to secure the Belizean government’s support?’
‘Only their non-interference.’
‘But I have no contacts with the Belizeans.’
‘Actually you do.’
Dulac looked quizzically at Roquebrun.
‘Juan Garcia. Juan is enjoying some snorkeling there as we speak.’
‘I see,’ said Dulac.
‘So. Do we have a deal, Mr Dulac?’
Dulac felt his unease and distaste about contacting Garcia mounting. ‘Well, in for a penny….’
‘Good. I’ll notify Garcia. Oh, and before you go see the government officials, get yourself some kind of cover. De Ségur probably has h
is men watching all over the place.’
‘Cover?’
‘You’re on vacation. Don’t you have a girlfriend who wants to do some snorkeling? It’s the best in the world after Sharm-El-Sheikh.’
‘I have good news and not-so-good news,’ said Dulac over the phone to Karen.
‘I’ll bite,’ she said.
‘Remember I offered to take you on a trip to Costa Rica?’
‘Thierry, that was two weeks ago. You were dead drunk. I won’t hold you to it. I’m surprised you even remembered.’
‘First the good. I have two tickets to Belize, instead of Costa Rica. Is that OK?’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers. And the not-so-good?’
‘We leave tomorrow.’
The Airbus 360 landed smoothly and Dulac felt the loosening of his grip on the arm rest of the business class seat. He mopped the perspiration off his brow with the airline’s perfumed face cloth he’d held, up till now, tightly clutched in his fist. Beside him Karen, relaxed, returned the travel brochure to the seat-back in front of her.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Belize,’ said the Air France, long-legged stewardess. ‘We apologize for the delay. Please have your passport ready before proceeding to clear Customs at the main terminal.’
‘We’ll be picked up by Juan Garcia,’ said Dulac, turning to Karen.
‘The same guy you went to see in Florence?’
‘Yes. His father is the Venezuelan ambassador to Belize. Juan spends a fair bit of time snorkeling here, that is when he’s not racing his Dragon in Douarnenez or getting his adrenaline fix in one of his Ferraris,’ said Dulac, as he rose and felt the sharp tingle in his numb legs.
‘Sounds promising.’ Karen smiled warmly, gently squeezing Dulac’s arm, her face aglow with anticipation.
As Dulac and Karen started towards the entrance of the airport, Dulac noticed a black limo to his left, a few dozen yards way. Suddenly a chauffeur wearing a tan-colored suit erupted from the limo’s front door and intercepted them.
‘Mr Dulac?’
‘Yes?’
‘Please come this way. Let me put the luggage inside the car.’
The Chimera Sanction Page 23